


Fireproof

by xagentofchaos



Series: Wincest drabbles [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, Phone Call, Promises, dean is dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3962365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xagentofchaos/pseuds/xagentofchaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is dying and makes a final phone call to Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireproof

He tries to treat his wound; cleaning it, bandaging it. Nothing helped, not even the stitches he did himself. The blood is spilling everywhere; even the walls around him have some of the thick liquid on them. Scratches of giant claws had ripped the wallpapers and a strong weight had crushed the furniture. There had been a fight in that room, between human and monster. Dean looks at the dead eyed creature on the ground, its mouth open, bleeding from every pore. He grimaces when sitting down on the crooked bed, clasping his right hand over the gaping hole in his chest. 

He’s dying; he can feel the numb in his legs and how his heart’s slow beats. But he’s not afraid, since he already knows what’s coming for him. He knows what’s on the other side for all Winchesters: an eternity of slaughter, screaming figures and laughing demons, slashing and dashing for decades. He’s not scared, even if he should be. 

_What’s dead should stay dead_ , that’s the motto he should’ve lived by. Both of them, him and Sam. They couldn’t though, they couldn’t help themselves. They had to bring the other one back, paying with their own soul and mind. Their sanity was erased the moment they came back. If fucking his brother wasn’t enough, who knew what he was capable to do next time. That’s why Dean has to stay dead. 

And that’s also why Sam can’t know. He can’t get any forbidden thoughts in his head; he can’t lash himself out to a crossroad and sell his soul for Dean. He can’t do that, that’s why Dean won’t tell him he’s dying. 

He won’t tell, but still he found himself dialing Sam’s number. 

_Beep._

He should hang up; he should just let himself die without Sam’s knowing, whatsoever. He should just fade into nothing; ashes to ashes, dust to dust; write a letter to Sam, have him thinking that they need to go their separate ways. 

_Beep._

But he can’t do that. He won’t. 

“ _Dean?_ ” 

He owes his little brother that much. 

“Hi, Sam.”

“ _You alright?_ ”

His heart is clenching. It could be that its minutes from not beating anymore. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Or because his brother is worried and Dean can’t tell him. 

“ _You found anything new on the case?_ ”

“It’s dead, Sammy.” _I did it. I killed it._

“ _Oh, that’s good._ ” Silence. “ _You sure you’re ok?_ ” 

Something is burning in his eyes, something too familiar. It’s freaking him out. 

“Everything’s alright, Sam.” His voice is thick. Sam can hear it, he knows it. He can hear the tears in his throat. He tries to swallow it, tries to be strong, but having Sam on the other line is breaking his heart in pieces. 

“ _You’re lying,_ ” Sam whispers. “ _Why are you lying, Dean?_ ” 

“Nah, it’s ok.” Swallows three times, pulling himself together. It’ll be alright. “I just wanted to say- I just-“ He’s never really said it before. The words are unknown to him. “That I-“ 

“ _Dean?_ ” 

“I-“ He breathes. In and out. “I love you, Sammy.” 

Silence, apart from the phone rustling on the other side. Sam is shaking. 

“ _Please, tell me what’s going on._ ” They’re both crying now, sharing tears through technology. 

“It’s going to be alright, Sammy, you’ll be alright.” Promises; dead in Sam’s ear. 

He’s almost completely drained now, body is shutting down. Limbs are numb, pulse is barely beating. Sam is crying but he’ll be alright. 

“ _Dean._ ” He says it in a whisper. Or it’s just Dean who can’t hear properly. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel; only ravaging pain and anguish screams. And something else, a promise. A promise he’d hoped to not hear. What’s dead, should stay dead. He has learned that by now. Sam hasn’t. “ _I’ll bring you back, Dean. I promise._ ” Because that’s what they do, isn’t it. They shouldn’t, it’s wrong. 

He can’t protest against Sam’s determined words, because the demons in hell have already welcomed him. 

“ _I promise._ ”


End file.
